Sometimes Moments

by Len Webster

  Opening her eyes, she saw the cream-coloured ceiling all blurry under the water. She counted in her head as she continued to stare. Being submerged, she enjoyed the quietness of the water, the thunder almost silenced. If she weren’t so afraid of drowning, she’d try to reach longer than a minute without air.

  Peyton sat up, quickly taking in oxygen and wiping the hair away from her face. She hung her arms over the bathtub, letting water droplets slip off her fingertips and onto the tiled floor. Another crash of thunder had her turning her head and staring out the window. It was close. She smiled at the thought of how ironic it would be if she were to actually be struck by lightning.

  Just then, lightning beautifully and terrifyingly lit up the dark sky. Another flash and thunder cracked in unison. Peyton looked up at the pendant to see it continue to flicker before her.

  Footsteps rushed to the bathroom door. Peyton stilled before three bangs were made against the door.

  “Peyton, are you all right?” Callum shouted over the sound of thunder.

  Her eyebrows furrowed and she groaned. “I’m just waiting to be struck by lightning. It shouldn’t be long now!” she yelled as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

  “I swear to God, Peyton. If you have a window open, I’m coming in there!”

  Her fingers tapped against the tub. Then she turned her head and stared at the wooden door. “Anything to see me naked. You’re such a pervert, Callum.”

  She sat quietly, waiting for him to reply, but he didn’t. She didn’t hear his footsteps disappearing either, so she knew that he was still there. More minutes passed as the water in the tub started to cool.

  Pulling her leg up from the water, she noticed that her toes had wrinkled, but she didn’t mind. She submerged her leg back in the water and waited. It seemed she had always being waiting for Callum.

  “I almost came back, you know,” Callum said from behind the bathroom door.

  Peyton kept quiet and looked at the soapy water.

  “I got to the wooden ‘welcome’ sign and I parked my car on the side of the road. I sat there for an hour deciding whether or not I should see you. I’ve done that almost trip about six times, Peyton. And each of those trips, I turned around and went back to the city. At least once a year, I came back to that part of the highway. Why it’s so different now is because I made it past the sign. This time, the need to see you outweighed the consequences I’d be facing.”

  The sadness in his voice caused the ache in her heart to rise to her throat. Tears silently slid down her face. Because she, too, had made it to that sign. She had parked her Volkswagen Golf in the middle of the highway and stared out in the direction of the city. But in the end, she had always done a U-turn back to town.

  Peyton silently got out of the tub and reached for the towel on the counter. Not wiping the bubbles that slid down her body, she wrapped the cotton towel around her. She knew what she had to do next.

  Ignoring the flung blanket on the bathroom floor, Peyton walked towards the door. She took a deep breath in attempt to settle her anxious heart. With a hard swallow, she turned the knob and pulled the door open. Then she looked down to see Callum sitting on the carpet, his back to her.

  “You’re forgiven,” she whispered.

  Callum quickly looked up, his sad voice from before mirroring the sorrow that consumed his eyes. He looked at her in bewilderment, and Peyton gave him a restrained smile. If he really had almost come back, then she had to send him away.

  “I’m what?” Callum asked, quickly getting on his feet.

  Her eyes met his, hoping he’d believe her and hoping what she’d say would be enough for him to leave town. “I forgive you, Callum. I’m not angry at you anymore.”

  “Just like that?”

  Peyton nodded. “Just like that,” she said before she pushed past him and walked down the hallway, towards her bedroom.

  “Bullshit,” he said, stopping her.

  Peyton balled her fists tight before she turned around.

  Callum’s facial features tensed and his nose flared. “I call bullshit.”

  “You got what you wanted, Callum. You have my forgiveness. You can go home now. I’ll see you at the wedding,” she said casually.

  Her hopes of him believing what she said were dashed when he marched towards her and stared her down.

  “No, you’re lying. I don’t have your forgiveness. I can see it. You’re still hurt. I haven’t earned it. I want to earn it, Peyton. I need to redeem myself. Nothing I have done has been worthy enough of you.”

  In that one moment, she saw it. A flash of the first night he’d kissed her, the same unsure and afraid eyes. Somehow, she was stuck between the past and present, and it completely terrified her.

  “Do you want my forgiveness or not?” she asked, tired.

  Callum sighed and he shook his head. “Not like this, Peyton.”

  “Then how?” she asked desperately.

  “Spend some time together. Have moments together… I don’t know, Peyton. I just need to be around you. I need to make it all up to you,” Callum revealed.

  Before she could tell him how absurd it sounded, a loud crash of thunder violently thrashed and the hallway light flickered once before the house darkened. The moment she couldn’t see Callum’s face, she let out a heavy sigh.

  “I’ll find candles,” he said.

  She felt him walk past her, his arm grazing hers. “They’re—”

  “Last drawer in the kitchen,” he said, cutting her off.

  “How’d you know that?” she asked, turning around.

  “Your house hasn’t changed, Peyton. Everything is in the same spot. It’s like you preserved this house to be the exactly how your parents left it. Get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat,” Callum said. His footsteps could be heard in the kitchen.

  “Let it contain rat poison, please,” she softly begged.

  Peyton pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it. The almost black room made it difficult for her to find anything. After raking around, she pulled out a pair of lacy underwear. Peyton held them up to the small amount of light coming from the window and the sight confirmed what she held.

  Lace.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna have to find something in the grandmother department—especially with that pervert in the kitchen.”

  With a reassuring nod to herself, Peyton put the lace back in the drawer and felt around until cotton hit her fingertips. It was a comforting feeling. Cotton wasn’t as daring as lace. Why she had that sort of underwear, she didn’t know. But she never wore it. Lingerie was not her expertise. She wasn’t even sure when she’d last worn a matching set. She’d always felt it was a symbol for her life. Nothing ever matched and different pieces never fit. Instead, they always had to adjust.

  Realising the extent of thought she had put into underwear, Peyton quickly slipped the pair on and rummaged in the next drawer until she found flannelette pyjama bottoms. Then she silently dressed herself. Once she was satisfied with the articles of clothing on her body, she began to towel-dry her hair. After a few minutes, she placed the damp towel over the railing of her bed and walked out of her room.

  Each step that she took she ensured was long and slow. Taking time away from being with Callum was better than actually spending those minutes with him. She had offered him forgiveness. She had given him an out, and he still hadn’t taken it. He was stubborn as ever, much to her displeasure.

  The flicking of ember flames caught her eye as she stepped into the darkened kitchen. The entire room was filled with lit candles. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the thoughtfulness of the extravagant use of wax. And as quickly as she enjoyed it, she forced herself to hate it. She walked towards the kitchen table and was just able to see the length of it—with the help of two lit vanilla candles.

  Peyton pulled out a chair and sat down, ensuring that he heard the groan she let out. She blamed the storm, but she knew it was higher than that. She had to direct her hatr
ed for such circumstances to Fate. And Fate was a sinister bitch when it came to Peyton. Let’s not forget Divine Intervention; she was even worse. Or he. Whatever gender, Peyton hated Divine Intervention as much as she hated Fate…and Death, too. All those bastards were working hand-in-hand against her.

  A plate was placed in front of her and she looked at it. A sandwich. Perfectly cut into triangles with the crusts removed. Her heart was the first to react, becoming heavy and uncomfortable. And then her mouth formed a frown. Memory Lane was becoming an allying bastard, too.

  “I’m hoping you still like Vegemite and cheese sandwiches. You had it all there, so I assumed,” Callum said as he sat in the chair in front of Peyton.

  He gave her a faint smile before he stared at the candle; the flame reflected in his eyes. Not liking the circumstances she was in and the pressure on her chest, Peyton leant forward and blew out the flame that he was looking at intently.

  “What was that for?” he asked. The light from the other candle on the table made his cheek visible.

  Peyton sat back and gave him a shrug. “I’m not one for romance, and these candles are a red alert for me. I’d rather we eat in the dark since my first request of you to leave my house isn’t happening.”

  “Fine,” Callum said before he moved closer to the last candle on the table and blew it out. Only the light from the candles behind him made some things visible. “I’m not trying to romance you, Peyton. I don’t want that.”

  She rolled her eyes, not caring if he could see or not. “Me, either.”

  “You don’t?”

  She smirked at the curiosity in his voice. She didn’t want him to seduce her, purely because she knew her heart couldn’t withstand him for much longer.

  “No, Callum Reid. You are the last man who I want romancing me.”

  She was just able to see a smile on his face. And that didn’t make her feel satisfied with her response at all. She couldn’t figure him out. She had given him what he wanted, yet he wouldn’t take it. He was far too much of a mystery. A challenge her heart wanted to conquer and claim.

  A tremble coursed through her. She blamed it on those feelings the seventeen-year-old she had been had harboured for him. Not the twenty-one-year-old. No, that Peyton hated the man who sat in front of her.

  “Glad we can agree on something. You know you can be pretty stubborn, Peyton. Always have been. Guess with time it’s gone from pretty stubborn to definitely and proudly stubborn,” Callum pointed out.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “I’m not stubborn. You’re a challenge not worth my time. Been there, done that. I’m over you.”

  There was no quick reply like she had expected. Instead, she heard the sound of a matchstick. Then the candle to her right was lit and then the one to her left. Callum blew the matchstick out and placed it on the table.

  Peyton missed the darkness that had consumed him. The light provided a detailed look of anguish on his face. Her breathing became shallow, hardly reaching her lungs.

  “How’d you get over me, Peyton?”

  She heard the break in his voice. He hadn’t seemed to notice it, but she had. That vulnerability made her heart leap, filling it with useless hope.

  “It was easy.”

  “How easy?” he asked.

  Peyton sensed the hurt in his question. “It was a completely and utterly simple task,” she stated as she sat up and uncrossed her arms. Then she picked up the sandwich and took a large bite, internally cursing him for having remembered one of her favourite foods.

  “Do tell,” he said with a raised brow.

  “What’s to tell, Callum? It’s simple. You ripped out my heart, crushed it in your hands, and forced it back in my chest. You left me with a gripping ache for four years. That’s how I got over you—because I had to. Because life made me.”

  Her throat tightened and she found it difficult to hold back a sob, but she’d be damned if he saw her like he had in the forest. Never again.

  “How did life make you get over me?”

  Peyton put the sandwich back on the plate and stood up, looking down at him. He had grown since they were together. He’d experienced more and seen things she hadn’t. She closed her eyes for a moment before she stared at him. The regret in his eyes was something she winced at.

  “Because life…God…the universe…any higher power out there killed my parents and broke me more than you could have. Grieving their deaths made it easier to forget you. I didn’t just get over you. I forgot you. I had to.”

  Lie. Death made me remember you more.

  “Can we stop this?” he asked softly.

  “Stop what?”

  “This back and forth. I know that I hurt you and betrayed your trust. It’s not like I forgot, Peyton. I had to live with it for the last four and a half years. I wasn’t there when I needed to be. But I am now. I came here seeking your true forgiveness. So that when you’re old and married, you don’t think back and hate me for the rest of your life. Can we just be friends…or at least something along those lines?”

  He didn’t turn away and his voice rang with certainty. Hope was also recognisable. And Hope was a close friend to Fate and her arsenal of bastards—probably more like sick lovers.

  For once, she appreciated the darkness around her. The hurt inside would no doubt be plastered on her face. The lack of light gave her a comforting veil to hide behind.

  “We can be whatever you want, Callum. Frankly, I don’t really care or understand. Since you have my whole life figured out for me, you should know that I would say get the hell out of my house… But I’m not. Stay until morning. The storm will be finished by then. Blankets are where you think they are. I’m going to bed. The couch is yours, ‘friend or at least something along those lines,’” Peyton said.

  Then she walked towards her room, not waiting for him to reply, allowing her pride to win and accept that she’d gotten the last word.

  “Don’t cry, Peyton. Just don’t cry,” she told herself.

  It was pointless. Her quick blinks couldn’t stop the tears. Peyton looked up at the willow tree branches and squeezed her eyes closed. She kept them shut as she tried to compose herself. After she walked back into the house, she ran into her room and sat on her bed, unable to stop the sobs that escaped.

  The moment she heard the sound of the trucks reversing, she stilled. When she couldn’t hear the engines driving away, Peyton got off her bed and walked out of the house. Unsure of where she was going, she continued to take steps until she reached the lake path. She could either turn right and go up the hill to town or continue to her parents’ hotel. Going into town wasn’t an option as the tourists and locals would fill the streets. And her mother would know something had happened the moment that she saw Peyton.

  To her left, the bench under the willows caught her eye. She sat on it and looked out onto the lake. It was still early. No one would be by the lake for a while. Those who lived in Daylesford always had a routine, never changing or altering what they did on a daily basis. But now, Callum was gone. And the comfort of a routine had been taken away. Everything had changed.

  She never sat on this bench. Normally, if she were around the lake, she’d run into the forest with Callum and stay there until she had to go home. But now, it was all over. He was on his way to the city, leaving her behind.

  “Peyton?”

  She opened her eyes and quickly wiped her cheeks before she turned her head. The first thing that caught her eye was a bundle of lavender tied together with a purple ribbon. She looked up to see a concerned frown on Graham Scott’s face.

  He had always been nice to her, and she’d always liked the dimple that graced his smile. Peyton sniffed before she sat up properly.

  “Are you okay?” Graham asked before he took a seat next to her, placing the lavender in his lap.

  “You’re normally not in town on Mondays,” she said. Then she gave him a fake smile, hoping he’d ignore the state she was in.

&
nbsp; “Dad couldn’t do the deliveries, so I told him that I’d do them,” he replied. The concern look on his face didn’t go away and that made Peyton uncomfortable.

  “Oh. Did you already drop off the hotel’s order?”

  “Yeah. Jenny took them off me.”

  Jenny Fields was the manager of The Spencer-Dayle. If there were any problems with the guests or the hotel, they went through her before Peyton’s parents found out. Jenny had been the one to cover for Peyton when she used to sneak away from her desk duties to be with Callum.

  “I’ve never seen you around the lake this early,” Graham pointed out.

  Peyton turned her head and looked out at the water. With a deep breath, she ignored the searing heat that had settled in her chest. She’d have to find a way to move on from Callum Reid. He had left her in their small town alone while he escaped to the city. Peyton didn’t have the heart to leave this small place that held so many of their memories. Even though the moments she shared with him were painful to remember, she’d treasure them and their town. The sight of the boathouse and the flag being raised brought a sad smile to her face. Daylesford was officially awake for the day.

  “Just out for a walk.”

  “Here,” Graham said.

  She looked over to see him holding the flowers out to her. The bright-purple colour was truly beautiful. His family’s farm was famous for having the best lavender in the area. That’s why the town was so loyal to the Scott family business—The Spencer-Dayle being one of their biggest clients.

  Peyton shook her head and gave him half a smile. She appreciated the gesture. “I can’t take them from you, Graham. Don’t you have to deliver them to someone?”

  He shook his head. “There’s no one more important than you right now, Peyton, and I’m done with my deliveries,” he stated, his mouth tugging upwards, revealing his dimple.

  Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Peyton took them from him. Then she brought them to her nose and inhaled the scent. Fresh and beautiful. It smelt exactly like her parents’ hotel.